Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 91266 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91266 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
I have to warn Teague about Jude. Warn Callie about Sorcha.
She pulled Jude’s shirt into place, nearly rolling her eyes when it hit her at her knees. The man was monstrously large. “I’ll be back shortly.” The faster she was out of Sorcha’s house, the less likely it was that he’d change his mind.
“Sloan.”
She stopped in the doorway and glanced back, finding him watching her. “Yes?”
“Be careful.”
She wanted to laugh, to tell him that she was walking ten feet to the house next door, and that nothing bad could happen to her in the process. She didn’t. She knew better. So instead she just nodded. “I will.”
The rain hadn’t abated in the short time they’d been inside, so she ran from his back door to hers. She unlocked the door as fast as she could and ducked into the house, only to find it dark and deserted. Where is Sorcha?
She moved through the house, frowning. There should have been at least a few lights on, despite the fact that it was early still, but there wasn’t a single one lit. Her skin broke out in goose bumps that had nothing to do with the chill, and she hurried to her room. The faster I pack, the faster I can get out of here for good.
She threw what little she’d acquired into her bag and dug out the burner phones to toss on top of them. She was in the process of muscling the zipper closed when the creak of a board made her look over her shoulder.
Sloan froze. “You don’t want to do that.”
“On the contrary, I’ve lived a very long time by doing exactly what is necessary to survive.” Sorcha had the shotgun braced against her shoulder with the ease of long practice. At this distance, Sloan stood no chance of avoiding getting hit if she pulled the trigger. The older woman took her in. “Going somewhere, my dear?”
“You know why I’m here. The people looking for me know where I am, and I need to leave.”
“Do they?” Sorcha stepped into the room. “Or is that what that filthy MacNamara told you? Don’t look so surprised—like I said, I’ve done what it takes to survive this long. I know a stone-cold killer when I see one, and it was child’s play to discover who he really was.”
“Or you were eavesdropping.” She and Jude hadn’t exactly been quiet earlier when they were fighting. So incredibly foolish.
Sorcha shrugged. “The how hardly matters. What matters is that he’s here with one goal in mind—my death. It might make my fool brother’s day to find out that I’ve finally kicked the bucket, but I have no interest in dying just yet.” She jerked the barrel of the shotgun. “Up, my dear.”
Sloan stood, her hands carefully raised. “We’re leaving. He’s not going to hurt you.” She prayed she was speaking the truth, but in reality she’d say nearly anything to get that gun pointed away from her. “No matter how much you might deserve it.”
“And you do.” Jude’s voice made Sloan jump, but Sorcha didn’t so much as flinch when he pressed a gun to her temple. He was little more than a shadow behind the woman, but she could still see the fury on his face—and the flash of the pistol he had pointed at Sorcha’s head.
“Like I said, I have no intention of going the way of the saints, yet.”
“You’re no saint, old woman, and we both know it. Now put that fucking shotgun down before I pull the trigger.”
She smiled, not looking the least bit intimidated. “I’ve been around the block a few times, MacNamara. The second I put down this gun and your little lady is safe, you’re going to snap my neck.”
“The thought did cross my mind.”
Sloan looked from one of them to the other. She could rush at Sorcha, but the woman would pull the trigger and that would be the end of her. If Jude shot her, she might still pull the trigger and shoot Sloan. There was a window behind her, but the glass was reinforced to withstand the winter storms that roared in off the ocean. The chance she had of breaking it, let alone breaking it without cutting herself to ribbons, wasn’t good. Sloan tried to keep her fear out of her voice. “Think about this.”
“I have.” Sorcha turned and looked at Jude, ignoring the gun in her face. “Step back. Now.”
Jude’s mouth went tight, but he did what she commanded.
And then he slammed forward, jerked the shotgun barrel toward the ceiling as Sorcha pulled the trigger. Plaster rained down and Sloan hit the floor, trying to make herself as small a target as possible. She watched Jude yank the gun out of the older woman’s hands, his face becoming a terrifyingly cold mask. “Did you think for a fucking second that I would let you walk out of this house alive after you threatened my woman?”